


Technicolor Field Trip

by vextant



Series: Happy Steve Bingo 2018 Fills [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Colors, Gen, Happy Steve Bingo, Post-Avengers (2012), The Avengers (2012) Compliant, The Avengers Are Good Bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16774837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vextant/pseuds/vextant
Summary: To Steve it feels like grinding a box of crayons into dust and then snorting them. The Bifrost feels like absinthe tastes — inexplicably sweet and somehow salty at the same time, like he wants to drink more but he also feels like he’s gonna toss his cookies later if he does.—A fill for the prompt "Colors" for the Happy Steve Bingo 2018.





	Technicolor Field Trip

Even though it was his idea, Steve’s not entirely sure about it. 

He’s keenly aware of Thor watching him. It’s hard not to seem nervous, and Steve’s never really been good at the whole stone-face thing. 

“My friend, there is no shame in it if you do not wish to go.” 

It’s very tempting to cancel the whole thing — nevermind, I don’t actually feel up to seeing Asgard right now, let’s just stay home — but just the thought of it makes Steve feel worse, because it was his idea.  _ He _ wanted to see it, so  _ he’s _ got to go through with it. Word is my bond, and all that. 

“No, it’s. It’s good. I’m good.”

“Are you certain?” 

Thor is squinting at him the same way that Bucky used to, when he knew that Steve was lying by the look on his face. He  _ knows _ he’s a bad liar, alright, he doesn’t need it pointed out to him. 

They’re sitting in the lounge in the Tower. Thor usually arrives and takes off from the helipad, which is right outside, taunting him. Steve can see it out of the corner of his vision, and somehow just its presence is making him more nervous than he has any right to be. Thor makes the jump all the time — hell, he himself regularly jumps out of planes, off of buildings, et cetera, et cetera. The difference is that he typically doesn’t  _ think _ about those things. The idea of visiting Asgard and the subsequent decision to do so have festered in his head long-term, rather than being a split-second, yes-or-no. 

Steve swallows his pride. “Talk me through it again.”

“It will not hurt,” Thor emphasizes, as if pain is Steve’s first and foremost concern, “But it will feel strange. Midgardians especially are not accustomed to traveling through the Bifrost. It — I suppose it  _ is _ strange to think about, that space and time fold before you. Perhaps that is the best way to think of it? An — an  _ elevator _ , made of space-time.”

An elevator made of space-time. He can almost wrap his head around it. It’s certainly a little easier to process than just the idea of being zapped from one place to another. Steve almost wishes that he’d read more pulp novels when he was younger. For as fantastical as they seemed at the time, it sure could help him now to ask least have a working vocabulary for his life nowadays. Alien princes, portal-hopping invaders, metal men and super spies. It’s a little dizzying. 

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s do it.” Steve stands and slings his shield onto his back. Hearing the magnets  _ click _ against the straps on his uniform is strangely comforting. 

He and Thor are both in uniform — Thor, complete with cape, seems more at home in full armor than he does in any sort of Earth clothing. Steve, in keeping with the level of formality Thor has set by simply being Thor, is also in his full tac suit — minus the helmet, because he hates the way his ear stick out when he's wearing it. Sam always says he stands up straighter than when he’s in civvies. “Do we just —- right here?”

“Of course not. The rune will ruin the furniture. Alas, I must once again mar Stark’s dear equipment.”

“I’m starting to think you do that on purpose.”

“Starting?” Thor laughs, real and deep from his chest. “I shall have to be more forthright with my intentions in the future.”

Steve follows him outside, feeling only a little better about the whole thing. He’s never traveled interdimensionally before, and if he was honest, he didn’t think he ever would. Hell, a couple years ago it was still 1945, and Steve was still grappling with the idea that there even  _ could _ be other dimensions in the first place. He was too busy trying not to get turned into Swiss cheese.

But now he’s saved the world — twice, technically — and fought  _ aliens _ . Real, honest-to-God  _ aliens _ , from another planet. Met and even befriended a prince of  _ other _ aliens — although he’s not entirely sure whether Asgard is technically another dimension, or if it’s a separate planet that exists in the same one that Steve does. It’s still a little fuzzy. He’s doesn’t really think of Thor being an alien. He’s a fish out of water, just like Steve is, but he’s just a significantly bigger fish with a magical hammer that only he can carry. 

Bucky would be having a field day. 

They get onto the helipad and suddenly Steve’s not sure what to do, even though he’s seen Thor do this about half a dozen times. Thor stands close; he always does, so the sense of personal space in Asgard must be closer to European standards than American ones. Steve’s used to it, having grown up in tenement housing in New York City, slept in foxholes and just in general been in the Army during wartime, where personal space is left at the door when you sign you papers — but some of the rest of the team will take little steps away where Thor comes “too close” to them. How are you supposed to have a conversation three feet apart?

Thor squeezes his shoulder and pats his cheek lightly. It startles Steve a little bit, mostly because he’s not come to expect that kind of brotherly affection from the future. Steve gives a wry grin and nods. He’s not  _ ready _ per se, but he’s ready as he’ll ever be and that’s good enough for him. 

“ _ Heimdall! _ ” Thor’s voice booms into the sky. He grabs Steve’s arm and raises the hammer over both their heads. 

There’s a sharp  _ crack _ of thunder, and suddenly Steve’s whole view is filled with color. Every color, some he can’t even put names to right away, because they’re passing too fast and he’s not sure where his head’s at and it feels like his stomach is in his boots. 

It feels like being shot through a kaleidoscope. Painted glass patterns rocket by them, too fast for even Steve’s memory, pulsing in green and orange and mauve and blue. Thor doesn’t seem to mind — he’s probably used to it. To Steve it feels like grinding a box of crayons into dust and then snorting them. The Bifrost feels like absinthe tastes — inexplicably sweet and somehow salty at the same time, like he wants to drink more but he also feels like he’s gonna toss his cookies later if he does. 

The patterns quickly morph to streak of colored light. Steve has the sudden feeling of being reversed, and the next thing he knows he’s landed on solid ground, in some kind of golden dome. The ground is a marbled rainbow. 

“My friend!” Thor grins, but he isn’t talking to Steve. He’s approaching a suit of armor — a large mean  _ wearing _ a suit of armor, sheathed in gold plate like some of kind of knight of the sun. There’s a greatsword in his hands, oversized for a mortal man perhaps, but not for the Gatekeeper. Steve guesses that this must be Heimdall himself. He hangs back and waits for Thor to introduce him, admiring the details of the golden walls. 

“Heimdall, this is my ally and friend, Captain Steven Rogers of Midgard.” Thor is leading the Gatekeeper off of his platform.

Steve has to admit that he sounds like a stuffed shirt when he’s introduced like that. He’s pretty sure he wasn’t even officially a Captain until he came back from the dead. Either way, he reaches out a hand, “Steve’s fine. It’s a pleasure.”

“The honor is mine, Captain.” Heimdall nods, but doesn’t take his hand. “Thor has heralded your arrival with great tales of your deeds.”

Oh no. Steve’s very aware of Thor’s ability to . . maybe not  _ exaggerate _ exactly, but he definitely has a enchant for improving the truth. Whatever makes a better story. He’s not sure what kind of “deeds” he’s done that are Royal House of Asgard appropriate.

“All good things, I hope.” He manages with a weak chuckle. 

“Please, Steven, this way.” Thor suddenly has a hand on his back and is leading him out of the golden dome as large rounded doors swing open.

It takes every ounce of Steve’s self-control for his jaw not to hit the floor. Asgard is beautiful. The bridge leading into the city is made of thick glass — or what Steve  _ thinks _ is glass. Colors dances up and down it like they had on the journey here. Asgard itself is large and gleaming gold and no less opulent than Steve expected. Even looking right at it, Steve’s not sure it’s a real place. 

“Come, my mother is eager to meet you.” Thor chuckles. 

Steve echoes it, because he’s only ever briefly considered that Thor has parents at all. He feels like a shiny new friend in grade school being brought over for his first playdate on the rich side of town. 

It’s nice, though. Even the walk along the rainbow bridge — which has no railings, and Steve’s brave, but he’s not brave enough to march up to the edge and look down — is pleasantly long and ambling. He’s vaguely aware of Thor is his ear, briefing him on an itinerary. It sounds like a lot of drinking, feasting, and fighting. Interestingly enough, those are Thor’s self-identified favorite pastimes, but Steve had never really stopped to think how much of it was cultural. 

He thinks he’s going to like it here. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)


End file.
